


You Broke Tony

by whumphoarder



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood and Injury, But it's Mild, Concussions, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Halloween, Humor, Hurt Peter Parker, Iron Dad, Irondad, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, because he is a fickle man and secretly loves being close to peter, because someone has gotta keep an eye on that kid, but in this universe tony has bought back avengers tower, set sometime between homecoming and infinity war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:37:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whumphoarder/pseuds/whumphoarder
Summary: Peter stumbles into the tower one evening, clearly injured and in need of assistance. Cue a very agitated and sleep deprived Tony trying to make sense of what happened.





	You Broke Tony

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [You broke Tony](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16064681) by [8salfeti8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/8salfeti8/pseuds/8salfeti8)



Tony had been holed up in his workshop non-stop for the past three days. He had just begun his newest project—a massive overhaul for the Iron Man armor in which he would finally integrate nanotechnology to create a fully retractable suit. It had been a difficult and tedious process thus far, evidenced by the bags under his eyes and borderline-dangerous levels of caffeine flowing through his system.

So when FRIDAY first interrupted the AC/DC album blasting over the speakers that evening to report that Peter Parker was standing in the tower’s entryway, Tony was confused.

“Huh? What day is it?” he asked the AI stupidly.

“It’s Thursday,” the female voice replied. “Peter is asking if you’re home.”

Okay, good. So at least he hadn’t lost complete track of time and skipped to the weekend. He glanced up at the clock and saw it was half-past eight. Peter had likely just stopped in during a patrol—a rare occurrence, but not completely unprecedented. The tower had free WiFi after all.

Unfortunately, Tony wasn’t in the mood for visitors. “Tell him I’m busy working on something right now but he can let himself in. There are those pudding cups he likes in the fridge—butterscotch, since he’s 16 going on 80.”

Tony resumed his work, switching out wires and adjusting settings. After a moment, the AI relayed, “He says thank you, and also wonders if you have any old towels he can borrow, preferably ones that can get stained." 

“Direct him to a linen closet,” Tony said distractedly. With tweezers, he tugged at a wire inside one of the suit’s gauntlets. It sparked at him, causing him to jerk his hand back. “Rude,” he remarked at the armor.

After another pause, FRIDAY reported, “He is unable to make it to the closet and is requesting assistance.”

Another attempt to adjust the wires only caused more sparks, this time with one flying off and igniting an oily rag on the workstation. Dum-E whirred to life, ready to douse it. “Hey, no! You stand down!” Tony commanded the robot. He quickly smothered the small flame with a metal pan to extinguish it.

The bot whirred at a lower pitch, sounding disappointed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he quipped back. “If I have to clean that foam off one more time, I’m powering you down.” To FRIDAY, he replied, “So send Happy.”

“Mr. Hogan is off for the evening, Boss,” the AI responded.

“Send Pepper then,” he said, annoyed.

“Ms. Potts is currently still in Japan on business. Peter is also wondering if you have any ibuprofen.”

That finally got Tony’s attention. He sighed deeply and put down his instruments. “Tell him I’m on my way.”

“Right away, Boss. Though you should know he seems quite distressed at this information and is insisting he’ll clean everything up himself.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he is,” Tony muttered back.

**X**

A few minutes later, a rather grimy-looking Tony stepped out of the elevator, carrying several towels and a bottle of painkillers. “Not sure why you think I’m your butler now,” he grumbled as he approached, “but FRIDAY said you needed…” Tony froze mid-step. His eyes went wide as he took in the scene before him. “Aw, shit! What did you do?!" 

Peter startled at the exclamation. He’d been sitting on the floor near the building’s entrance, one leg extended out in front of him and the other bent so he could rest his head against his knee. He still wore the Spider-Man suit—except for the mask, which was clutched in one hand—and appeared dazed.

But by far the most concerning observation was the fact that the teenager was completely covered in blood.

“Oh, hey Mr. Stark,” he said, his voice a bit slurred. “I’m really sorry to bother you, I just wasn’t sure where to go...”

In an instant, Tony had closed the distance between them. Dropping to his knees beside Peter, he threw the towels down and grabbed the kid by the shoulders. “Karen, report!”

“She’s offline,” Peter muttered. “That’s why I couldn’t call. I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark, I’ll clean everything up, I swear.” He reached out for a towel, but Tony swatted his hand away.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re gonna hold still and explain why my lobby looks like the set of a student-directed slasher film,” Tony commanded. He was running his hands over Peter’s limbs urgently, checking for entry wounds or damage to the suit that would indicate where the blood was coming from.

Peter seemed nervous now. “I’m really sorry, I don’t think it will stain, I just - ah!” He let out a hiss of pain as Tony’s hand brushed against a lump on the back of his head.

Tony’s brow furrowed. “That hurts?”

Peter gave a slight nod. “But it’s not so bad…" 

Tony scoffed as he pulled his hand away to get a closer look. Amazingly, that part of his head was one area of Peter _not_ covered in blood. Deciding this would be easier if he could see actual flesh, he pressed the spider insignia on the front of the suit. The fabric immediately loosened.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Peter panicked.

Tony was already working to free the boy’s shoulders and upper body from the material. “Getting this off,” he answered simply.

“What? No!” Peter cried. His words ran together as he begged. “No please don’t take the suit! I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean to mess up, I’ll do better, I promise!”

The suit only half removed, Tony stopped. “Hey, hey, look at me." He tilted Peter’s chin up to him and saw there were tears welling up in the corners of the kid’s eyes. “I’m _not_ taking the suit away and I don’t give a single shit about the floor,” Tony said firmly. “But I need to know where you’re hurt. So either you tell me right now, or I figure it out myself.”

Sniffing, Peter blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. “It-It’s not too bad. I just hit my head and I think I sprained my ankle or something—”

That was when Tony’s patience ran out. “The _blood_ , Peter!” he interrupted. “Talk about the blood! Like _where is it coming from_?”

Peter frowned, looking confused. Then suddenly something seemed to click in his addled brain.

"This isn’t my blood,” he said simply.

Of all the things Tony had expected to hear from the young hero, that was definitely not one of them. He stiffened, the feeling of icy horror flowing through him. “Whose is it?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, sorry! I mean it’s not anyone’s! It’s not _real_.” Seeing as Tony looked unconvinced, he dragged his finger across one of the crimson splotches on his suit and licked it. “See? It’s like red-dyed corn syrup and glycerin or something.”

Tony’s head was swimming. “So you’re not bleeding? Not anywhere?”

“I’m not bleeding,” Peter confirmed.

Letting out a massive exhale, Tony shifted his weight until he was sitting back on his butt rather than his knees. He used his jeans to wipe the crimson liquid off his hands before balling them into fists and pressing them to his eyes in exasperation. “Alright, start talking, kid. Why in god’s name are you sitting on the floor of my building covered in _fake blood_? Because if this is some kind of prank, allow me to remind you I have a heart condition, and so help me I will beat your ass if—”

“It’s not a prank.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sigh almost as big as his mentor’s. “Alright. I was on patrol,” he began, “and I noticed this mugging going down—it was in an alleyway between a CVS and… Uh, you know those temporary stores that pop up around October and sell costumes and decorations and stuff? But then they’re gone again in November?”

“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. Go on,” Tony prompted with a hand wave.

“One of those. I yelled at the mugger guy to get his attention and when he spun around I tried to web him up like usual. But my web-shooter jammed. I think it’s because of this new web fluid formula I’ve been using,” Peter rambled. “Actually, Mr. Stark, I was gonna ask you about that because it seemed awesome in all the lab tests but it’s been clumping sometimes now and I can’t figure out exactly why...”

“We’ll work on it later. Keep talking, kid." 

“Right. Uh, I had to hit the web-shooter a couple times and finally got it unclogged, but by then he had already run off. But the lady he was mugging—she was real nice by the way, told me thank you like a hundred times—she said she saw him duck into that costume store.”

“And you went after him?” Tony guessed.

“Yeah. It was kinda funny actually.” Peter gave a lopsided grin. “He had a wig on and was like, trying to get into this giant bumblebee costume, like he thought he could blend in or something. But he was the only person in the store except for one middle-aged Asian lady at the register, so it was super obvious. Then I shot a web at his feet to trip him, and that worked, but uh, turns out he had a knife and—”

“Did he hurt you?” Tony interrupted.

“Well, he tried but—”

Immediately, Tony started trying to pull the rest of the suit off again and find whatever injury Peter was hiding.

“No, no Mr. Stark, he missed!” Peter said quickly. Tony relaxed again as Peter continued his recount. “He threw the knife at me and I jumped out of the way, no problem. But then I sorta crashed into this display shelf, and that knocked a bin over which was full of these little plastic bags. And then I landed on them, so a bunch of them burst open...”

“Let me guess.” Tony sighed exasperatedly. “Fake blood.”

“It was _everywhere_ ,” Peter said miserably. “I sorta smacked my head on the counter too…” He ran his fingers over the lump on his skull, wincing.

Tony frowned. “Okay. We’ll get that checked in a minute. What about the ankle?”

Peter’s cheeks flushed red. “Uh, the guy got back up and was starting to run again, so I shot another web at him, but now my head hurt and I couldn’t really see straight and I missed. I tried to get up so I could try again and I sorta, uh… slipped.”

Tony blinked at him. “You slipped.”

Peter’s voice was barely audible as he muttered “...I slipped on the blood.”

Perhaps it was sleep deprivation from too many consecutive hours in the lab that caused what happened next, or maybe it was simply the relief that his young charge was not actively dying combined with the ludicrous image of a spandex-clad teenage superhero wiping out in a pool of fake blood in the props section of a Halloween City. But whatever it was, this particular piece of information suddenly caused the billionaire to do something he almost never did.

Tony Stark giggled.  

Not just laughed, but actually _giggled_. And once he had started, he couldn’t seem to stop. To Peter’s absolute horror, Tony giggled and giggled until his shoulders shook and tears streamed down and no sound was coming out of his mouth anymore. 

The kid was at a total loss. “Mr. Stark…? Are you okay?” 

“I’m s-sorry, k-kid!” Tony choked out between gasps. “It’s n-not funny - it’s really not! But you - you fucking _slipped on the blood that you spilled_!” He dissolved into yet more giggles. “That’s downright _poetic_ , is what it is.”

Peter wasn’t seeing the humor. He hung his head in shame. “The mugger, um - he got away after that.”

Eventually, Tony managed to pull it together. He wiped the tears out of his eyes with his sleeve and took a few deep breaths. “Alright, I’m sorry.” In a serious tone, he asked, “This happened on patrol, right? How did you end up here?”

Peter shrugged. “I didn’t know where else to go. Karen was offline so I couldn’t call—I think some of the blood got inside and shorted something out? I’m not sure—and I knew I needed to clean the suit, but it’s not like I could put it in my aunt’s washing machine.” He sighed deeply and admitted, “Plus my head hurt a lot and I couldn’t walk very well so it was hard to think of other options.”

“Wait a minute,” Tony said, frowning. They might have a serious PR problem on their hands. “Are you telling me that Spider-Man could be seen swinging the whole way from Queens to Manhattan, dripping in blood?”

“No, of course not!” Peter looked offended at the accusation. After a beat he said, “I took the subway.”

Tony let out yet another massive exhale. “Of course you did, kiddo. Of course.”


End file.
